Chapter 7 #3
Wylder’s fork clatters to the tablecloth. I study him closer and realize he’s not as unmoved as he’s making himself out to be. His lips are thin, his cheeks pale.
No. He hates this. He fucking hates it.
So why isn’t he saying anything?
Because this is how he was raised, my mind whispers. To not stir trouble. To keep everything moving smoothly. To never reveal how he truly feels.
If that’s true, then it makes me unbelievably mad.
And sad.
I might not have been raised with love, but no one stifled me. I was wild, free, untethered. With Wylder, even if he is moored, I’m starting to suspect he was missing love and the freedom to be himself.
Samson stabs his knife into the meat and brings it up to his mouth, pulling it off with a gnash of his teeth.
“They obviously didn’t teach her anything, given she’s rude as fuck.
” Candace’s lips part as Samson turns toward her and holds the knife out, pointing it at her.
“Do you know what happens to rude people in this house?”
Her eyes flick to the blade he’s pointing at her while he chews noisily.
When she doesn’t answer, he smiles. Given how rarely he does so, it’s oddly sinister. “I cut them up and bury them in the backyard.”
Wylder’s knuckles whiten on his knife. He exhales slowly. It’s killing him not to intervene. Not to take control of the situation.
How is no one else noticing this? Is it because this is how Wylder’s always been?
Candace is done with letting him sit in silence. She calls his name, and he finally looks up. “Yes?”
“Your brother just threatened me.”
“Did he?” Wylder asks, taking a sip of his wine. When he puts the glass down, I grab the bottle and refill his glass. He shoots me a thankful look before turning his exhaustion-heavy gaze back in Candace’s direction. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Were you not listening?”
He sighs and dabs his napkin against his lips before placing it back in his lap.
“I admit, I was not.” Then he turns his attention to Samson, who is shoveling food into his mouth.
“Did you threaten my girlfriend?” he asks, and Samson shrugs.
“Just told her to stop being rude to the chef.”
Wylder sighs again and looks at Candace. “Were you rude to Jules again?”
Her jaw tightens, and she sits up a little straighter. “I’m allowed an opinion.”
“Not really,” Jackson says, and Dalton puts his arm around the back of his chair, nodding in support. Across the table, Wyatt’s eyes narrow.
This is like a fucking soap opera. With my food finished, I pick up my glass and lean back in my seat, watching it all unfold. Dinner, a show, and the best damned champagne I’ve ever tasted. What more could I want?
Other than for Wylder not to be upset about this.
“And why should I take the word of a toddler?” she snaps at Jackson.
Jackson reddens. “I’m almost twenty.”
“A baby. Honestly,” Candace scoffs.
Dalton growls, his arm drawing tighter around Jackson. “He’s not a child. And he has more sense than you.”
“Damn straight,” Wyatt says, earning a small squeeze from Matthias. He might not like how Dalton is touching his brother, but his ire at Candace is clearly greater.
Cade laughs, leaning over and whispering something into Ansel’s ear, and from the corner of my eye, I see Wylder’s shoulders bunch further around his ears.
“Wylder, you should have better control over your family,” she says, sipping on her wine. “Allowing them to treat a guest this way, especially one who’s been invited, is simply uncalled for.”
I roll my eyes. “You insulting the chef was uncalled for, sweetie. Treat others how you want to be treated, and maybe you’ll see things improve.”
Candace’s snotty gaze lands on me. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Just the plates you’re eating off are worth more than you’ll ever earn in your lifetime.”
“Enough,” Wylder says suddenly. He pins Candace with a look full of so much venom that it almost makes me swoon. “I won’t allow you to speak to my friends and family in that manner.”
“But it’s okay for them to speak to me like this?” Candace’s voice is a little quieter, like she’s unsure what to do with this version of Wylder.
I know exactly what I’d do with him. I’d run.
Then let him chase me.
Wylder exhales. “No, but I can’t blame them. I should never have invited you here tonight.”
“Why did you, then?”
Everyone’s heads are swiveling between them, like we’re witnessing some absurd tennis match.
Wylder doesn’t answer her. Not with words. But his gaze lingers on me a little too long, long enough for me to know exactly why he invited her.
To send a message to me.
My heart sinks all the way to my boots.
“Let’s continue with dinner,” Wylder says eventually. “I’m trusting that we can all behave?”
A low grumble moves over the table, but I wait for Candace’s response.
She offers Wylder an asinine smile. “Of course. I know you were all raised to the highest of standards. Your father would be rolling in his grave if he knew how you behaved around his table.”
A deathly silence descends.
But it’s Wylder I look to. His shoulders are drooped, like he’s carrying the weight of the world. The worst part? He doesn’t seem shocked or bothered by this.
He seems resigned.
Despite the ache in my chest, I can’t help but want to comfort him. To remind him he’s not alone.
I reach over and touch his thigh, feeling the muscle there tighten and bunch under my fingers.
He peers over at me, and I bite my bottom lip.
His gaze flicks to it and then back to my eyes.
“Wylder,” Candace bites out, and he drags his gaze back to her. “Can you stop staring at that…that…nobody.”
Ansel gasps, outraged on my behalf.
“He’s an imposition. Why is he even here?” she continues hotly. Wylder’s thigh tightens under my palm.
The harsh word she used doesn’t sting. It did when Wylder said it, but Candace…doesn’t faze me. She’s aiming to hurt, but she doesn’t have any power over me.
I wish she didn’t have the power to hurt Wylder.
Wylder’s eyes flash. “Do not speak about him that way.”
He’s not the only one to jump to my defense. Ansel points a trembling finger in her direction. “Neo’s not an imposition. You are. No, you’re worse. You’re a fucking worm!”
Cade stands up. “Shall I squash her to bits?”
“Fuck yeah,” Samson says. “Do it. Then we can roll her up in the rug in the other room and carry her out back.”
“I’ll dig the hole,” Dalton adds.
“I’ll help,” Jackson says.
Candace pales, her mouth opening and closing silently. I’m pretty sure they’re not really going to kill her. For all their threats and posturing, it’s not like she knows they are The Firm. But still…it’s amusing.
“Wylder…” she says, and he just sighs, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t allow them to speak to me this way.”
“You bring it on yourself,” he says. “I told you to mind your tongue if you showed up tonight.”
I didn’t realize that. He never tells me to do that. It makes me ridiculously happy that Candace and I aren’t held to the same standards.
To be fair, I wouldn’t listen. But I also wouldn’t be an asshole to his family, either.
I lean forward and watch her, my eyes boring into her until she meets my gaze.
Her gaze flicks from me to Wylder and then back again.
Jules appears behind her, and I see then that he has something in his hands.
I pull my lip between my teeth, knowing what’s coming. I kind of love that it’s Jules doing it. Like the rest of us, he has his breaking point.
I reach over and take Wylder’s hand into mine, linking our fingers together and watching as Candace’s face transforms with fury.
And then Jules steps to her side and scoops out a handful of mashed potatoes before shoving it into her face.
She gasps as they slowly drip down her cheeks, some landing on her shoulders and dress.
“They are not mashed potatoes. They are pommes puree, and those are never pedestrian, vipère.”
Harley stands and strides toward Jules, who is shaking with rage, and picks him up before leaving the room. Everyone seems thrilled that this happened—well, except Candace, who hasn’t moved from her seat and is still staring at my hand wrapped in Wylder’s.
Wylder is staring at it too, his throat bobbing.
“I can’t believe this,” she finally says, and Wylder nods in agreement, his gaze flicking to mine.
“Want to leave?” I ask, ignoring her completely.
“I have a duty to my girlfriend.” His tone is frail. Weak. Like he’s saying this because he thinks he should, not because he means it. “I can’t just…leave.”
“You can,” I whisper, squeezing his hand in emphasis. All around us, I can feel curious gazes watching this unfold, but I don’t give them any attention. “You don’t have to do what’s right, Wylder. You can do what you want.”
Something flickers across his face. Is it wonder? Anger? Yearning? I’d take any of those over the sadness that replaces it. “No. I can’t.”
He gets up abruptly, taking Candace by the arm and leading her from the room. I watch them leave numbly, feeling like he’s chosen her over me.
Which is ridiculous. Of course he’ll never choose me. I don’t want him to, either.
Right?
Cade breaks the silence that lingers after their exit. “Okay, I’m just going to say it. Why the fuck hasn’t Wylder dumped her ass? She’s fucking vile.”
Dalton sighs. “I think you’re forgetting how much harder Dad was on him than the rest of us. Wylder… He was the first to go through the training. He was able to shield us from the worst of it, but there was no one to protect him.”
My stomach flips. And there I was, thinking we had absolutely nothing in common as children, but we did.
Neither of us had someone looking after our best interests.
“Having Candace around also gives Wylder an excuse not to let anyone close,” Matthias muses, his gaze resting on me.
I scowl. “I know I make him mad, but I’d never hurt him.”
“I don’t think that’s what Matthias is saying,” Dalton says slowly. The two brothers exchange a loaded look before he continues. “Wylder isn’t worried about himself getting hurt. I think he’s worried about caring too much about someone, and them getting hurt.”
“That’s not true,” I protest.
“Isn’t it?” Ansel says. “If it’s not true, why didn’t Wylder let you leave the other day? Why is he insisting you work in his office?”
“It’s not because he cares.” I can feel my ears reddening, my face growing warm. “He wouldn’t have invited Candace here tonight if he cared.”
“Actually, I think that proves that he does.” Dalton sighs. “But let’s shelve that for now. We need to focus on getting rid of Candace.”
An idea comes to me. Both brilliant and absurd. “Leave it to me.”